


The Marquis

by NecromanticNoir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NecromanticNoir/pseuds/NecromanticNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On weekends, Snape invites willing partners to join him for one-off BDSM "Experiences" at his home. Harry wants more than a one-off.</p>
<p>Or:</p>
<p>“I’m just a sad, ugly, middle aged old queen who can only get sexual partners by building up a profile of dark and dangerous mystique on the internet, keeping them for 48 hours, then sending them away. There.” ~ Severus Snape</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uninvited

The bed was an empty ruin.

A crumpled silk blanket in sex red lay smashed across it, the pillows awry like windblown clouds after a storm. The dark duvet was trashed and stained.

Severus Snape stood before his bed, lip curled, surveying the devastation.

The indentations of two forms in the dense mattress, fragile as ghosts…

He was alone in the rubble.

~

“Did you have a nice weekend?”

Snape turned sharply, to watch Minerva McGonagall crossing the room achingly. She stood before the sash window, watching in silence.

Snape knew what she was watching.

The driveway was long and lined with stooping  trees; the solitary figure walking away only one of many who had taken that walk on a Sunday evening.

“Do you want the details?” A sneer.

Minerva shuddered.

“No thank you, Severus, if it’s all the same to you. You need new sheets.”

Snape, his back to the bed, nodded grimly.

“I’ll do it.”

Minerva inclined her head, and started back towards the door -

“You ask me the same question every time one goes, do you realise? Whether I had a nice time?” Snape smirked, shoulders slightly slumped.

Minerva paused, and looked over her spectacles at him.

“I am merely trying to discern whether or not you are happy. Looking at you doesn’t help; you always have had a face like granite.”

“And do you ever get an answer?” Snape leant against one carved mahogany bed post, arms folded, amusement etching lines and creases into his pale face.

“You never give me one in words, but I know,” the old woman replied, archly.

“And what is the answer?” Snape smirked.

Minerva fixed him with a severe look.

“It is, every week, the same. No.”

She did not stay to watch his face fall.

~

Snape opened his laptop. The case he kept it in was a tacky red plastic. Lipstick red. Sex red.

Thirty five emails. Snape sipped his morning coffee and glanced out of his office window at the view below.

Then he began to read:

 

**Email: Re: Male Slaves on upperfloor**

_Heya there, I’d lik to cum and play wit u at yo big house –_

Snape deleted the email, snorting.

 

**Email: Re: Male Slaves on upperfloor**

_My Dearest Marquis, my name is Sub12 and I would love to have the honour of joining you in your mansion for a weekend. I am 27, built, with blonde hair. Please let me know how I can apply in full. I have attached photographs for your pleasure. Yours sincerely, Sub12._

 

Snape looked at the photographs, sipping his coffee. ‘Built’ was clearly slang for ‘fat’.

He deleted the email.

**Email: Re: Male Slaves on upperfloor**

_Dear Marquis, I hope you do not mind my asking, but why do you only take slaves for a single weekend? I noted you state quite clearly that once you have visited the mansion, one may never return? I just wanted to add, I think you are beautiful and I would be honoured to meet you outside of the unusual weekend setting you propose –_

 

Deleted. What sort of strange people were these? His website stated clearly: weekends only. He was far too busy for this nonsense.

**Email: Re: Male Slaves on upperfloor**

_To The Marquis, Please have a… gander at my pictures that I’ve attached. I am gagging for some strong discipline from your hand alone. Please reply if you can grant me a weekend and let me give you my body. Yours, SlaveBoyGrant._

 

Another set of photos – his mobile rang.

Snape perused them whilst speaking.

“Snape. Yes. Listen, Longbottom, we shouldn’t still be having these discussions,” he snapped.

The young man in these photographs was wearing a white mesh bodystocking, which strained over his slender body and whipcord muscles. There was one of him bent over, the fishnet material stretched across his pert, peach bottom. Snape shifted in his seat, but his grim expression did not change.

“I hired you to deal with this, there should be no need for my ‘expertise’ any further…”

The face was pleasant enough, and the pictures of the young man kneeling a pretty enough sight. The rosy erection hanging between his legs looked cherry-sweet and stiff.

Snape flicked to his calendar on the red laptop. The weekends were blocked out in red for the next seven weeks. He noted down the date of the eighth week.

“Yes, the acid will work, but not at that concentration. Email me your formulae and I will have a look tonight. No, I am not free until then. You will have my answer tomorrow. Goodbye.”

He set down his coffee and started to type.

**Email: Reply to Re: Male Slaves on upperfloor**

_Dear SlaveBoyGrant, your pictures meet with my approval. Kindly send more. Please tell me who took them and whether he or she was fucking you at the time? I can spare you and your body the 25 th-27th. You will be told the place nearer the time, but for now ‘Yorkshire’ must suffice. If you let me down you will not be considered again, bitch. I want you to come fully prepared to be dominated and whipped within an inch of your life. Then I will fuck you hard in the arse, if you are lucky. Kindly respond with your agreement and I shall send the contract for your signature. _

_The Marquis._

~

Minerva set down the bowl of potato and leek soup before him and then stood, hands on her hips, as Snape tapped away on his laptop.

“You should leave work at work,” she said sternly, lips thinning.

Snape glanced up.

“These idiots can’t be left to themselves for a single minute. If I have one more ‘crisis’ from Longbottom I swear I’m letting him go, whether or not you know his grandmother,” Snape growled, brows knitted crossly.

“You do realise, this is the third bowl of soup I’ve brought you this evening? Do you even realise you are sat in the dining _room_? The other two bowls are in the sink, cold; what a waste of my afternoon!”

“You are my housekeeper; wasting your afternoon on me is what I pay you for,” Snape said vaguely, still typing.

“You need some separation from work during the week, not just during your weekends,” Minerva persisted.

“I would, if I didn’t have to oversee every formula for fear of -”

“Perhaps, if you spent time with poor Neville, instead of bombarding him with -”

“What are you, my wife?” Snape sneered.

“No,” Minerva snapped, with more than usual asperity, “and I wish you had one. Or a nice young man; wherever your tastes run. I cannot see you finding anything lasting amongst the company you keep, finding strange men on the internet and bringing them here!”

“It isn’t supposed to be lasting,” Snape snorted. “That is the point.”

“I’m not going to be around forever, who will make sure you eat when I am gone?”

“I’ll hire someone,” Snape said, distractedly.

“Yes, who’ll bring you one bowl of soup, watch it go cold, then throw it away. They won’t care about you like I do – now eat your bloody soup before I set up an intravenous drip and force it into you that way!”

Snape barked out a laugh and looked for the spoon.

“I’m eating,” he simpered, eyes on the screen.

~

Six o’clock that Thursday night found Snape tapping directions to his secluded country home into his phone.

**Send**

The response was instant:

**Reply: Thank you, Master. I cannot wait to offer myself for your delectation. SlaveLoverAdam**

Snape sat back against the new purple cushions of his enormous canopied mahogany bed, and sighed.

“Goodnight, Severus!” Minerva called, from the hallway. “I’m going to see my godson, you remember? Your breakfast and lunch are in the fridge, if you forget them I will personally stalk you into work -”

“Yes, thank you,” Snape called back. He listened to her footsteps going down the hall, fading away down the stairs.

~

At eight ten precisely, the doorbell rang.

Boomed throughout the ground floor rooms and entrance hall.

Snape had been padding about the drawing rooms in his blood-red dressing down, phone in hand. SlaveLoverAdam liked to send dirty photos of himself. Snape had been requesting interesting poses for about half an hour.

He froze, phone forgotten.

The doorbell never rang: they were out in the middle of nowhere.

Or, to be precise: it rung at nine o’clock every Friday night. Not a minute later, or the door remained closed. All the young men were duly warned of this.

But ten past eight on a Thursday?

Surely SlaveLoverAdam hadn’t been walking up the mile-long drive whilst sending those pictures?

Intrigued, Snape rose, and crossed the chequered entrance hall floor in fast strides.

He pulled open the door - and was shocked to see a young man standing there, holding a small, battered brown backpack. Thinking back through his next eight weeks of bookings, he could not remember seeing this boy before. And he would have remembered this one, with those gorgeous green eyes, slim build, tousled hair, sharp jaw…

Beautiful, utterly beautiful.

But without a booking.

It rattled him that someone without his approval had gotten his address, and he snarled, as was his wont to do when he did not feel in control:

“Who the devil are you?”

“Are y… Marquis?” the young man whispered, almost reverently, looking up at Snape with eyes that were round and luminous like green jewels. “I’m… I’m Harry.”

And he even bowed, in deference.

Snape’s face contorted into a sneer.

“Harry. I swear I do not… remember inviting you.”

“Um… You didn’t, no,” Harry admitted; straightening up, looking thoroughly awkward.

“Then why are you here? Have you applied for a weekend?” Snape’s thin fingers tapped impatiently on the black door. “I haven’t had your pictures.”

“I… no. I mean, I’ve been on the forums and your website, but I never… I have written to you a couple of times, but not about tha… A weekend just didn’t seem…  So I’ve come to... To offer myself to you as your slave. Permanently.”

Snape blinked. Stepped back. Thought about closing the door.

“You are aware,” he said, primly, “that I only offer single weekend experiences.”

“I do. Know, er... But that isn’t… what I wanted.”

“What YOU wanted,” Snape choked out, stepping backwards with shock. “And what is it that you wanted, pray?”

“I… I know it’s not usual but… I wanted to g… to get to know you. To be with you. To belong to you.”

“Well, that isn’t on offer,” Snape sneered. “You’re attractive enough – send me some pictures of yourself with toys in your arse and I’ll consider you.”

“No,” said the young man, softly.

Snape’s eyebrows rose almost into his hairline.

“Then why are you wasting my time? This is non-negotiable – as it says on the website, my way - or not at all.”

He ought to just slam the door in the impudent brat’s face. But there was nothing cocky or overly-confident about the young man’s demeanour. Only a calm, quiet self-assurance, and a hopeful shine and upturn to the delicate features. Not assuming, merely hopeful, and respectful. There was just… something different about this one.

Coupled with the face that… Snape had never seen anybody so beautiful. He would be doing harm to himself by punishing the young man for turning up out of the blue, surely?

He battled with himself, standing there on the step of his own house. His pride, versus the boy’s beauty…

“Please, I didn’t mean to be rude, or presumptuous -”

“Well you have been both,” Snape snapped. That shut the young man – Harry – up.

Harry’s face, and eyes, fell to the stone steps.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice choked all of a sudden. “That wasn’t my intention. I’ve just… I’ve been following your website for so long and it just became overwhelming, the need to be here with you. I know it’s stupid, I do. Part of me knows you’ll never… It was just blind optimism really; I just packed a bag and gave in to it…”

“You thought you’d move in with me, out of nowhere?” Snape could have laughed, looking at the meagre suitcase the young man still clutched in his slim fingers.

“I don’t take up much space,” Harry said softly, almost sadly, as though he knew he was only minutes from having the door closed in his face. As though, Snape thought, he had never really belonged anywhere.

“You expect me to feed you too, I suppose?”

Harry sighed.

“I really… I hadn’t thought it that far through. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how much of a burden I’d be to you.”

“And what about my weekends? If you’ve been a follower of the website, presumably you know that I book up my time for weeks in advance. Am I supposed to cancel all of those engagements?”

“I…” the young man’s eyes grew wide. “I just… I guess I assumed y… Or rather, I hoped you might. If I offered something you found more interesting.”

“I have no idea what you are offering,” Snape grunted.

“I want to do the lifestyle with you. Belong to you. You clearly like the weekends, why not do it all the time?”

“What makes you think one person would be enough for me?”

Harry sighed, sadly.

“I was afraid you’d say that. I don’t know, then, how I can be enough for you. But I would like to try.”

“So you turn up here, unannounced, expecting me to forsake all others and keep only unto you -”

“You don’t know these other people you sleep with, so why not me?” Harry’s eyes flashed defiantly.

Snape paused, taken aback.

“Look, I’m sorry for turning up like this, but there was no way you’d say yes over the internet – so I took a chance. I can’t… I know you don’t owe me or have any obligation to say yes. I came because I couldn’t stay away from… wherever you were.”

“What would you do for me, if I were to say yes?” Snape interrupted sharply, leaning against the doorframe.

“Whatever you wanted. Within reason.”

“Why within reason?”

“I’ve thought about this for ages. I won’t have sex with anybody but you. But with you, I’ll do whatever you want,” Harry said – quietly, yet firmly.

“So if I asked you to service the guests of my house, you’d say no?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly would you do for me?” Snape sneered.

“I… whatever you needed.”

“In a normal day, for example.”

“I… I’d wake you, in whatever manner you wanted, I… I’d bathe you, dress you. I guess you’re busy during the day so I wouldn’t bother you… I’d feed you, or eat at your feet in the evenings… Seduce you after; perhaps a bath, or a massage first, or whatever you wanted. I’d do any sex things, submit to you - I thought you could train me to be exactly how you wanted. That was the main plus I saw for you – in a weekend, you can’t get much opportunity to mould someone into however you want them… I figured I could offer you that. A longer term… commitment.”

Snape frowned; paused in thought. Such an arrangement was something he had occasionally considered, but the effort involved into finding the right person to be laboriously trained had always put him off.

What had he to lose? If this young man proved useless, or annoying, Snape could always throw him out.

“I won’t cancel my upcoming weekends,” he snapped.

“Oh,” Harry said - rather sadly, Snape fancied.

“What I can do is: not take any more bookings for the foreseeable future. Until we determine whether this mad idea of yours has any merit,” Snape added. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the young man – and, to his amazement, watched a small sunrise bloom across Harry’s face, animating his features and making his green eyes sparkle.

“You’ll… really? Oh, I… Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Snape snorted. “You’d better come in.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**Click to Enter www.MarquisDeSlytherin.com**

 

**Disclaimer:**

  
‘Dear Visitor, Allow Me to be frank at the commencement...you will not "like" Me. The Gentlemen will be envious and the Ladies will be repelled. You will not like Me now, and you will like Me a good deal less as we go on.

  
Le Marquis is a lifestyle BDSM, D/s Master, Trainer, hedonist and consensual slave Owner with over 20 years in the "lifestyle" and now, the existing Patriarch of the House of Slytherin.

  
The Marquis has been a "Master Trainer" for the past 5 years with a noted concentration on TPE (Total Power Exchange) Master/slave consensual Ownership relations. La Maison De Slytherin in its present known form, is located in England, United Kingdom.

  
When not traversing the globe, The Marquis can be found at His Edwardian Mansion home and facility, living life as He has created it; with His slaves and his Housekeeper.

  
To those wishing to join The Marquis in His Elysian paradise: you will not be worthy enough. If you are fortunate enough to be considered, you will be subject to bewildering torrents of emotional and physical abuse, and blistering sexual gratification. All applications must be made online; all applicants are considered for one weekend, and one weekend only; there is no charge for the privilege of attending the Slave Mansion, apart from your hide.

_Contact Me if you dare._

 

Signed un-affectionately Yours,

**The Marquis**

  _Patriarch of the House of Slytherin and owner of the BDSM Training Mansion_.’

 

Click **here** to Beg for an Invitation to the Dungeon

 

~

 

*** The Marquis is online***

DeMalfoy: Severus, good evening.  
Marquis: Lucius. You’ll never guess what happened to me tonight.  
DeMalfoy: Work or play?  
Marquis: Play.  
DeMalfoy: Nothing then. You don’t play on Thursday nights.  
Marquis: I didn’t used to.  
DeMalfoy: Broken with tradition? Who?  
Marquis: Not quite. You’ll never guess. A young man turned up on my doorstep, out of nowhere.  
DeMalfoy: Young man? **Who?**  
Marquis: He says his name is Harry.  
DeMalfoy: You’ve fucked him? Good boy.  
Marquis: He’s in the spare bedroom.  
Marquis: Down the hall.  
DeMalfoy: WITHOUT fucking him?  
Marquis: No, I haven’t fucked him.  
DeMalfoy: I don’t understand, Severus.  
DeMalfoy: Why did you let him in, then?  
DeMalfoy: How long is he staying for?  
Marquis: He’s fucking beautiful, Lucius… God, what am I doing?  
DeMalfoy: I repeat: WITHOUT fucking him?  
Marquis: It just… doesn’t feel right. I don’t know him.  
DeMalfoy: You don’t know any of the boys you fuck.  
Marquis: … … …  
Marquis: He said that.  
DeMalfoy: What does he want?  
Marquis: To be my slave.  
DeMalfoy: And you put him in the spare room? I despair of you sometimes, Severus. By the way, Draco says he is looking forward to his weekend. This new bitch of yours won’t get in the way? I can’t think of anything more likely to turn my stomach, but Draco adores you, and he always gets what he wants.  
Marquis: I am keeping my current engagements. Whilst I work out what the hell to do with this new boy.  
DeMalfoy: FUCK him.  
Marquis: I knew you’d say that.  
DeMalfoy: FUCK HIM.  
Marquis: Thank you, I got the message.  
DeMalfoy: Speak to Mulciber – he has an excellent slave-training programme he can share with you. Things you wouldn’t think of. You’re probably very out of practice at long-term relationships.  
Marquis: I have never trained anyone long-term.  
DeMalfoy: Perhaps the change will be good. You have been stagnating a bit these last few years. Pushing forty now, old boy. Perhaps it’s time to settle down.  
Marquis: I think we’re a long way from there. This young man needs to be punished for showing up out of nowhere. He broke the rules.  
DeMalfoy: I’m sure you’ll have fun explaining them to him, Severus. Oh, and Severus?  
Marquis: Yes?  
DeMalfoy: FUCK HIM.

 

~

 

**Emerald1980 is online**

**Emerald1980 is offline**

**Emerald1980 is online**

 

Day 1 in the Slave Mansion

  
I can’t believe I’m actually here. I know there’s only a few people who might read this journal but I wanted to post. Signal is pretty crappy. I’m just… brimming over with… nervous anticipation. What will The Marquis be like, in person? I don’t even know his real name. The room he put me in seems to have been out of use for a long time. It doesn’t look like the ones in his website gallery. The mansion itself is up this really pretty tree-lined driveway. It’s not quite as big as I imagined, and seems very old, like a bit of a mausoleum. I wonder how he inherited it, or maybe he bought it? He told me he’d see me after work – I was convinced he was an aristocrat, but apparently he has a job! I don’t know if that shatters the mystique or makes him more intriguing. I still can’t believe I’m in a stranger’s house and practically offered myself – but it is **Him**. I was half hoping he’d come to me during the night; slip into my bed and make love… But I was alone, all night. I can only hope that he sees something interesting in me – he didn’t have to let me in, at all. I can hope.

**Emerald1980 is offline**

 

~

 

“Oh, there’s, um, a boy in the spare room,” Snape muttered, when he came down to the parlour.  
“Right. So, tell me about him,” Minerva said, as she set out coffee for Snape, his half-buttered sandwiches on the side. Snape, sipping as he tapped sharply into his phone, paused his impatient pacing.  
“Why? You never normally want any details.”  
“Something has rattled you,” Minerva smirked. “And I’ve never known one to be here on a Thursday night before.”  
“Not much to tell,” Snape shrugged, bitterly. “Showed up last night with his suitcase, determined to stay. I showed him to one of the spare bedrooms. Not sure how long he’ll last. I hardly have the time to play nursemaid to him.”  
“His name?”  
“Harry, I think,” Snape scoffed.  
“You sound impatient with him. If you didn’t want him here -”  
“I never invited him,” came the groused reply.  
“Then send him away!” Minerva snapped, exasperated.  
“No.”  
Minerva threw up her hands.  
“I have no time to talk to him now – and there will be a new appointment arriving tonight, for the weekend.”  
“I’ll see to it that he gets some breakfast, shall I? If you’re going to abandon him all weekend?”  
“ _I didn’t invite him_ ,” Snape repeated, through gritted teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration taken from a real Marquis on the internet. He reminds me of Snape a little bit.


	3. Chapter 3

All day at work, Snape was distracted. The usual messages flashed up on the red laptop, but his replies were half-hearted. He knew he needed to snap out of it – he had his latest bit of rough turning up that evening. 

He would hardly have any time to speak to this new boy before his evening began.

 

-

 

“Hi,” Harry greeted him with the warmest smile that Snape had ever been gifted by anyone.

Slightly bewildered, Snape approached the kitchen table, where the strange creature was sitting.

“I have to say, Minerva’s a wonderful cook. She obviously really cares about you. She says you don’t eat enough.”

“She’s always saying that,” Snape said, sitting awkwardly.

“How was your day?” Harry smiled cautiously. He pushed a full bowl toward Snape.

Snape frowned into his soup.

“It…fine. Yours?” he forced out.

“I… good! Thank you. I unpacked, and Minerva showed me around the place – you have a beautiful home, it’s stunning. I wanted to help with dinner but Minerva wouldn’t let me, so… I figured I’d just wait for you to come home and then we could -”

“My weekend appointment is due in an hour,” Snape snapped, unnerved by the boy’s enthusiasm. He watched a little of it die in those lovely emerald eyes even at his words. He knew he ought to feel satisfaction… but it only left him cold.

“Oh,” Harry murmured. “Will I see you at all?”

“Probably not,” Snape shrugged, reaching for his spoon. He raised his eyes and fixed Harry with an intense stare, then made a decision. “Come here.”

There was a moment of silence; of suspension.

Then he watched Harry rise as if drawn on strings, and stagger towards him.

“Kneel.”

Harry looked at the polished wooden floor, and gulped.

“Kneel!” Snape snapped, eyebrows raised in disbelief; used to faster obedience.

Cautiously, the boy did so, until his head was table-height.

Snape picked up the bread roll on his side plate, tore off a strip, and held it out.

“I have my own over there -” Harry protested, motioning to his plate.

Snape silently held the bread out, in his bony fingers.

“Boy. Eat.”

“I’m not a do… Ok.” Harry reached out for the bread, tentatively.

“From my fingers,” Snape snarled. Harry had to lean forward and open his mouth wide for Snape to slide the bread into it. Once the food was inside the boy’s mouth, Snape’s fingers lingered, touching the red lips. Harry closed his mouth around them, eyes wide, as he chewed. Swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. Snape slid one finger deeper into the boy’s mouth.

“Suck it,” he whispered. Harry’s cheekbones hollowed as he did as he was asked. “Use your tongue.”

His finger was timidly licked from inside. He wasn’t sure whether the boy’s hesitance was charming or irritating.

“Have you been with other men before?” Snape asked, softly.

Harry simply raised his eyes to him and said nothing. Snape slid another finger inside his mouth; deeper, reaching down toward his throat –

Harry made a retching sound and shuffled back, lips wet, Snape’s fingers glistening.

The green eyes flashed with hurt.

Harry slurped back a mouthful of salvia and swallowed. 

“I don’t want to be demeaned,” he said, coldly, looking betrayed.

“Yet you came to a sex dungeon,” Snape sneered, lips curling unpleasantly.

 

-

 

It was Harry that opened the door to that Snape’s latest plaything, at nine o’clock precisely. 

Nobody had asked him to; he had been waiting in the entrance hall like a flittering butterfly, hoping that nobody would turn up. Hoping, perversely, to get a glimpse of the sort of boy Snape usually liked. 

Snape, however, was nowhere to be seen. 

The doorbell went again.

Shifting awkwardly, Harry shuffled towards the door, opened it slowly - and then just stared at the person who stood, smirking, upon the step.

“Why hello,” grinned the young man, who must have been a few years older than Harry. He was tall, slender, with tattoos all down one arm and a short haircut. There was a military feel to his dress, all tank tops and dog tags, but he was too skinny to have been in any army, and he was wearing flip-flops. He also had on an expensive pair of black branded sunglasses. 

Harry immediately felt about twelve.

“Er, come in,” he said, uncomfortably, shuffling back to allow the man inside.

“Name’s Bryn,” smirked the guest, stepping over the threshold arrogantly. “Where’s the Master?”

“I dunno,” Harry grumbled.

“Unless I get to play with you, instead?” Bryn grinned, and clapped a hand firmly onto Harry’s left buttock, making Harry squeak.

“Fuck off!” he bit out.

“Hey, bitch, relax! You gonna join us in bed later? I’d enjoy having you on the end of my cock!” Bryn laughed.

“That is quite enough,” came Snape’s dark, angry voice, from the top of the stairs. “I believe it is me whom you are here to see, Mr…”

“Bryn, Master,” said the young man, instantly falling to his knees, like a puppet that had had his strings cut. 

Harry gawped in surprise, but Snape seemed entirely used to it as he descended the staircase.

“Follow me on all fours,” Snape smirked. “You might as well get used to the position.”

He led the youth away, without even a glance at Harry.

 

~

 

Clutching a bottle of wine, head lighter than air and dizzy with it, Harry crept along the hallway, stopping before the door of the room next to Snape’s. As all the rooms on the hallway were connected to either a bathroom or a lounge area, it must be possible to stand in the room next door and see… something. Harry snuck into the room next to Snape’s and crept through. He knelt at the bathroom keyhole and peered through.

Beyond was a bathroom and beyond that, through the open door, he could see…

Harry sat back on his heels and tried not to cry. He took a long swig from the wine bottle.

Then he put his eye to the keyhole again.

In the room, on a bed covered in black plastic sheets, Snape was fucking ‘Bryn’ hard, from behind. Bryn was wearing a bridle, and a saddle, and was being occasionally whipped hard on the sides and arse, whenever Snape seemed to feel the urge. There was a lot of grunting and snarling; the bed shook -

Harry crawled away from the door and sat in the dark, his head in his hands.

 

-

 

At the back of Snape’s mind was the boy, haunting his house like a ghost. 

It unnerved him, which in turn made him focus less on his own enjoyment.

Closing the door on ‘Bryn’ on Sunday evening, Snape sighed.

When he turned and saw Harry bouncing nervously down the stairs, smile only half on, eyes unhappy - he only wanted to lash out.

“I’m tired,” he growled out, and stalked away. “I have no time for you now.”

 

-

 

The following evening, Snape was sat in his study with a glass of wine.

DeMalfoy: So… Tell all.

Marquis: Nothing to tell.

DeMalfoy: But you’ve just spent the weekend with him!

Marquis: I spent the weekend with my latest boy, who I had booked weeks ago. I told the brat he wouldn’t get priority.

DeMalfoy: Oh. I mean yes, it’s an odd situation but… I would have at least cancelled my weekend fun.

Marquis: I won’t be told what to do. Fuck, someone just knocked at my door.

DeMalfoy: Is it him?

Marquis: Yes. He’s sat before me now.

DeMalfoy: Ask him to strip and see what he does.

… … …

Marquis: He walked out.

DeMalfoy: ????

Marquis: Said he’d come back when I wasn’t ‘busy’. I might give him an hour on Wednesday evening. So, how’s Draco?

DeMalfoy: You don’t care that he’s gone?

Marquis: No. 

DeMalfoy: Draco’s fine. Still banging on about a weekend with you. It makes me sick.

 

~

 

Harry stood in front of the full length mirror, scrutinising his bare body critically. His little round buttocks were definitely his best feature, apart from his eyes. Otherwise… his cock was average, his waist was too narrow, his hip bones were prominent and his chest was thin and hairless. There was a thicker trail of hair flicking down towards his groin, over his taut stomach, and his nipples were tight but rather pink. His collar bones stuck out, as did his ribs, and his ankle bones. He had always been too skinny. Eyes downcast, determined, he pulled on an oversized white shirt.

Snape’s words over breakfast were still ringing in his ears.

“So,” Snape had smirked, “tonight I am… available. You may join me in my private rooms. If you’re not too busy, that it.”

Far down the other end of the table, Harry had frozen, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Porridge dripped off the spoon and splattered into the bowl, and Harry flinched.

“Shite! Um, yeah, yes! Please. I’d love to.”

Snape had made no reply.

 

-

 

Harry knocked quietly at the study door. 

So quietly that he had to knock again. His hands were shaking.

“Come!” Snape barked, and Harry gingerly pushed the door open. 

Snape was sat on a red leather sofa, wrapped in a black dressing gown. He held a glass of wine and was smoking.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Harry said, stupidly, standing in the doorway.

“I don’t, usually,” Snape said, fixing Harry with his dark eyes. “I felt like… indulging tonight. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Okay,” Harry whispered, closing the door softly and padding across the lushly carpeted floor. He was wearing the overly large white shirt, slightly unbuttoned to reveal bare collar bones, and his legs were bare. 

Snape frowned.

“Who’s clothing is that?” he snapped, pausing in the act of reaching for the wine bottle.

“This?” Harry mumbled, tugging at the shirt.

“You’ve come to see me wearing another man’s clothes?” Snape snarled.

“I bought it new,” Harry replied. “I read a thread on a forum about… the most attractive things to wear.”

“You should have been nude,” Snape said, harshly. “Or worn leather.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered, looking down at himself ashamedly.

“What are you wearing underneath that?” Snape asked, pouring a glass of red wine and holding it out.

“Um…” Harry twisted awkwardly and lifted the hem of the shirt a little, to reveal his bare hip.

He bit his lip, hopeful and yet... scared.

Snape stubbed out his cigarette hard onto a glass dish beside the sofa.

“Come here,” he growled.

Harry advanced, green eyes shimmering. He slipped onto the sofa, taking the wine glass, tucking one leg beneath himself and arranging the shirt hem so that it covered his lap, and his modesty. Snape sat back a little, parting his own legs.

“So… You came here for sexual tuition?” Snape asked, low, sliding one arm along the back of the sofa. Harry edged closer, until they were only inches apart.

“I wanted… to be with you,” Harry whispered, clutching the wine glass with both hands. Snape looked down at the young man’s thin fingers.

Harry lifted the glass to his lips and took a long sip, luscious wide eyes fixed on Snape.

Snape watched the boy’s throat work as he swallowed.

“So,” he croaked out, “the preliminaries. Your age?”

“Twenty two,” Harry purred.

“What do you like to do in bed?”

“I… whatever you want to do with me. My turn.”

“Your… turn?” Snape frowned.

“Yes. You’ve asked me two questions. So, what is your full name, and what do you do for a living?”

Harry took another long swallow of wine.

Apparently disconcerted, Snape shifted a little. He sipped his wine, watching Harry mistrustfully.

“Severus Snape, and I am the CEO of my own company.”

“What does you company do?”

“Ah, I believe it was my turn? Your full name.”

“Harry Potter. Your turn.”

“We sell cosmetics. From formulas that I created.”

“Would I know the brand name?”

“Yes. My turn: have you had a lot of sexual partners?”

“No. Have you?”

“A few.”

“Over a hundred?”

“Probably. Has anyone ever fucked you?”

“You know I don’t like those questions.”

“Why not, if you’re here to have sex with me?”

“That isn’t all I’m here for. I wanted to get to know you… Who’s turn is it?”

“I don’t know. You may ask.”

“When was the last time you had a regular partner?”

“Not for…” Snape sighed. Confessions of this nature were humiliating, and starting to get irritating. Why did the boy have such an interest? “I have never really had a partner who I was… emotionally connected to,” he spat out.

Harry sat up; his eyes gleamed and he sipped his wine with a rare, contemplative smile.

“So far, anyway,” he whispered.

Snape looked at him, hard. 

“What is it you’re really after? Is it money?”

“No!” Harry flinched, frowning. “I told you, I wanted to be with you.”

“Why me?” Snape asked, reaching for the wine bottle. “Drink up.”

Harry gulped his wine down in five swallows and held out his glass, awkwardly.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a look?” Snape purred, low. He was very close.

It took Harry a moment to realise what Snape was referring to. Then he glanced down at his own bare legs and realised - and a cold fear gripped his heart. 

Harry slid off the sofa, wobbling, loosely clutching the wine glass in his thin fingers. 

He paused for a long time, facing away from Snape, steeling himself - until he heard Snape impatiently clearing his throat, behind him.

Slowly, he lifted the hem of his shirt at the back, revealing the top of his thigh.

“More,” Snape growled, impatiently. “Lift it up. You did come here dressed like that.”

Harry faltered, again. His fingers trembled.

“Do you have a problem with doing what you’re told?” Snape snarled.

“No problem,” Harry gritted out, voice choked. “I just… I don’t know you. You realise you only asked me questions to do with sex?”

“Is that not what you are for?” Snape asked, smirking, one eyebrow quirked.

“Not all, no,” Harry shook his head. “I want to know y-.”

“So you keep saying. And I you. _Inside._ ” Snape’s voice was molten and black. Harry shivered.

“I have to go,” he whispered, and bolted from the room.

 


	4. Chapter 4

***The Marquis has entered Dungeon Chat***

MasterAlbus: Good Evening, Severus.

Marquis: Albus.

DeMalfoy: Severus! Any joy with the new pet?

MasterAlbus: Pet?

LordMcNair: Severus has a gorgeous boy, that lives with him, that he doesn’t fuck.

Marquis: He’s still here. It’s been six days.

MasterAlbus: I appear to be out of the loop. Where did you find him?

Marquis: I did not. He **arrived**.

LordMcNair: And apparently he’s frigid.

DeMalfoy: Severus, you need to just screw him, or toss him out. This is getting ridiculous.

Marquis: I invited him to speak with me last night. He turned up wearing a white shirt and nothing else. Then ran when I tried to touch him.

MasterAlbus: So he’s keen, but inexperienced.

Marquis: He has no idea about the D/s lifestyle. He doesn’t even wait to be invited to speak.

MasterAlbus: How delightful. 

Marquis: How so, exactly?

MasterAlbus: I forget, you have never entered into a Training programme, have you Severus? They can be most rewarding. This young man would intrigue me, were I you.

Marquis: I have my rules for a reason.

MasterAlbus: So punish him as part of his Training. But you must get past that at some point.

DeMalfoy: Can you please video this ‘punishment’?

Marquis: I doubt I can get near him. I’ve not seen him all day.

MasterAlbus: Would he be interested in being Trained? Or is he too disobedient?

Marquis: I do not know.

MasterAlbus: Well, what conversation have you had with him?

Marquis: … … … It has been more… sexual in nature.

MasterAlbus: Ah, my boy, that was your first mistake. The D/s relationship is not about sex.

Marquis: No? Then what is it about, old man?

MasterAlbus: Trust. 

Marquis: I don’t trust anyone.

MasterAlbus: Then you are not worthy of being anyone’s Trainer.

DeMalfoy: Severus doesn’t get emotionally involved.

Marquis: No.

MasterAlbus: Then you will always be left feeling cheated at the end of your… assignations. You wish only to control, to dominate, and then to cast aside? In the true D/s relationship, the submissive is the one who has the control, but gives it up, out of trust. Are you worthy of trust like that, Severus?

**The Marquis has left the conversation**

-

 

Severus could not sleep. By two in the morning, he had arisen, and was watching the dark garden from his window. He was acutely aware of the boy’s presence down the hall, as though the very walls breathed with it. As though the boy were right there behind him, soft breath puffing down his neck, prickling his skin. 

His skin felt tight and tense; he had a headache. 

Silently, ghost-like, he padded down the hallway from his room, and stood outside the only other occupied bedroom. Gingerly, his fingers reached out; drawn of their own accord. He opened the door softly and looked into the room, finding the curtains to be open and the small figure in the bed curled up in an unhappy ball in the moonlight, like a sick dog.

Harry was sleeping, making little snuffling noises, and shirtless, with the sheets pooled at his hip. His back was caved around, as though he were in pain. His fingers clutched too harshly at a pillow.

“Boy,” Snape whispered, carefully. He watched Harry wake, a slow process - then Harry sat up, blinking in the darkness.

“Who’s there?” 

Snape paused.

“I am considering devising a Slave Training Programme for you. If it is what you truly want?”

The young man rubbed his eyes, as though trying to work out whether he were dreaming.

“I… Yes. I’d do that.” The young voice was quiet, but firm.

“You are not obedient. We have already established that,” Snape sniffed.

“I can be, if I’m not… demeaned. I have no interest in that.”

“You don’t want humiliation?”

“No.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You are going to drive me insane.”

“Why?” Harry asked, winding his sheets in clenched fists.

“Because you have no respect. No discipline. And you are frigid.”

“I’m not. Frigid,” Harry said, instantly. “I’m just… I’m in way over my head, possibly.”

“Having second thoughts?” Snape sneered.

He was surprised by how concerned he was to hear the answer.

“I think I’d like to hear what the Slave programme might involve,” Harry said, carefully, looking up at Snape inquisitively.

Snape was, inexplicably, at a loss. Such things were a long way from his single-weekend experiences.

“I will draw it up, then,” he growled, turning away to hide his bluster.

“Why are you… What made you want to… It’s a lot of effort,” Harry spluttered.

Snape stopped.

“There is no denying your beauty,” he said, evasive, eyeing Harry critically.

Even in the pale moonlight, the boy was sylph-like; slender and lovely.

“But?” Harry whispered.

“I have yet to see the merits of the type of experience that you offer,” Snape said, coldly. “But I am reliably informed that I… Needless to say…” he broke off, frustrated.

“There’s a part of you that finds your ‘one weekend’ rule a bit… hollow?” Harry ventured, cautiously, eyes alight with hope even in the dim light.

Snape pursed his lips. Opened his mouth to speak - but his throat was suddenly dry as parchment.

“Hollow,” he choked out, “is hardly the word. I have no need for a more intimate, or emotional -”

“Have you never been married?”

Snape shook his head, before he had fully registered the question.

“Married?” he snarled. “Are you implying that I am incapable of anything more permanent than a single weekend?”

“I’m trying to work out… why you don’t want that? Nobody wants meaningless sex with strangers.”

“ _You_ may not. And define ‘meaningless’.”

“Love-less.”

Snape sneered.

“Love,” he spat. “Since when has ‘love’ been of any benefit to me?”

“You are afraid of being hurt?”

“How dare you,” Snape hissed. “You come into _my home_ and demand that I explain my actions to you!”

“I didn’t, I…”

“You think that, because a man does not instantly fall at your feet in,” Snape sneered the word, “ _gratitude_ at your generous offer, he must be incapable of feeling desire, of feeling affection?”

“I never meant - I - I’m sorry! Please, I only thought to be where you were, to please you!” Harry cried.

Snape had advanced on him, fists clenched, face red and contorted with anger. Harry scrambled to the edge of the bed, placating hands reaching out - but Snape was fast, and his thin fingers snagged harshly in the hair at the back of the boy’s head, hauling his face back with a searing grip. Chin raised, eyes huge, Harry struggled, wincing.

“I only wanted to love you,” he choked out. Snape froze.

“You don’t even know me,” he hissed into the boy’s face.

“I know,” Harry said, almost a sob. “Take me, then. Have me tonight, then tomorrow I’ll go. I’ll go.”

His fingers were tangling in the back of Snape’s own limp black hair. Mouth raised, lips parted; his breath ghosted over Snape’s chin. 

They were achingly close. Snape fancied he could almost hear the boy's hammering heart.

Snape looked down at the prone young man, quivering in his grasp, like a fruit ripe for the plucking.

“No,” Snape sneered. “I’ll keep you, is what I shall do. I’ll torment you by making you want it, making you **beg** for me, and by delaying the pleasure. I’ll turn you into my perfect pet. And then… Then, I’ll decide whether to keep you. Or whether to throw you out.” His eyes darkened. “We start tomorrow.”

He wrenched the boy away from him, and Harry sank back onto the bed as though melting. How the boy took his latest decision, Snape did not stay to watch.

 

-

 

***TheMarquis is online***

Marquis: I am in need of a Slave Training manual.

Albus: I am pleased for you. Are you ready to accept the responsibility that it takes to own a slave?

Marquis: I have never attempted this before.

Albus: Why now?

Marquis: He… addicts me. There is something about him, I… I cannot stay away from him. He also drives me insane. So disobedient.

Albus: How lovely he will be, then, when you have Trained him. I am sending you a document by email. Cut out the parts of it that you need to make up your first Contract. I can check it for you if you wish. Make sure he agrees to it before you begin.

Marquis: I will not need my contract to be checked, thank you. I have received the file.

Albus: Good luck, Severus. You know where I am if you need help.

Marquis: Help? This is supposed to be about my pleasure, Albus. I will not require help.

Albus: I’ll speak to you again soon, then. Goodnight, Severus.

 

-

 

***Emerald1980 is online***

_I can hardly breathe. This morning, outside my bedroom door, was a document:_

 

‘ **Slave Training - Guidelines**

 

P rimary Goal

Training the slave to transfer his freedoms to his Master and become His property is the primary goal.  This can only be accomplished after the slave has agreed to be trained.  This agreement must be consensual and with full understanding of the Master’s intent. The slave shall cultivate the understanding that pleasing his Master is the cause of his own greatest happiness, and that displeasing his Master causes only suffering. The slave shall seek out opportunities to please his Master. The slave accepts that he has a long way to go in order to become a well-trained and obedient slave.

 

Secondary Goals

The slave will learn submission and obedience without hesitation, to be made manifest in the physical ownership of the Master over the slave’s body. The following physical actions will determine the slave’s obedience: he shall speak only when directed to do so; face the Master at all times and never turn his back; never look into the eyes of his Master without permission; keep his head bowed in the presence of his Master; adopt automatically the Pose of Supplication when in the presence of the Master. 

 

The slave shall learn to Present:

1) When the slave enters the same room as his Master.

2) Before the slave exits the room his Master is in.

3) After completing a task or order given by his Master in order to receive additional orders.

4) When approached by his Master.

5) When ordered to Present.

 

The slave shall adopt the desire to supplicate and please his Master in all things. The slave shall be obedient and respond positively to all his Master’s commands immediately.

 

The slave shall learn that his environment and body is physically owned by his Master and shall submit to techniques that demonstrate this, such as bondage for restraint or caging, movement-limiting devices, and requiring permission to move between different areas of the Master’s house.

 

The slave shall not wear clothing except that which is approved by the Master.

 

The slave shall keep his body in a state of cleanliness at tidiness at all times.

 

The slave shall wear at all times the Collar of Consideration.

 

The slave shall have no ‘personal privacy’ or space except that which is given by the Master.

 

Discipline Training

The slave shall submit to Discipline Training, and shall be aware that behaviour in contrivance to the Master’s wishes shall result in Consequences, such as Punishment. The slave shall commit to accepting the Consequences of breaking any of his Master’s rules. Punishment shall only be used to correct bad behaviour. Punishment may take the form of detention, remaining in positions, loss of privileges, caging, or corporal punishment. Corporal punishment shall be used to correct very serious or deliberate lapses in good behaviour.

Bad behaviour must be confessed to the Master immediately.

 

Sexual intercourse

No sexual activity is to occur until the slave has completed the above training and earned his Formal Collar. However, the slave may never achieve orgasm alone without the explicit permission of his Master.

As a sex slave in-training, the slave shall incorporate a sexual attitude and hunger in everything that he does, being eager to sexually perform at the best of his abilities for the Master, should he be permitted. In such time as sexual activities are permitted, the slave’s hunger must be such that he would feel as if he could never be satiated until his Master allows him to be.

 

The House

Should the slave decide to leave his Master’s house at any time without his Master’s permission, the Slave Training is immediately and permanently terminated.’


	5. Chapter 5

 

Dawn came creeping in, shrouded in the mist that came rolling off the moors.

Harry, who had not slept, fancied he could see the mist flowing in through his open window; smoky entrails dissipating softly into his room.

He sat in the nest of his sheets, curled over the crisp papers; still warm from the printer. Snape’s footsteps had alerted him; the man had not entered, merely left the papers and gone.

There was a space on the bottom of the last page for a signature.

 

-

 

The boy was already washed, shaved, and dressed when Snape came down to breakfast. He was also looking a little feverish, and was tugging on the collar of his light blue shirt as Snape walked in. 

The green eyes widened.

The contract lay on the table between them.

Snape swept past the boy and sat. He poured how coffee and began buttering his toast, all the while aware of the young man staring at him, his own bowl of porridge untouched.

“Have you read it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry said, carefully. 

“What did you think of it, then?”

“It… it’s a bit… Intimidating. But I’m presuming you’d guide me through everything you wanted me to do? Such as ‘presenting’ - I’m not sure what that is. There’s a lot of… it’s all about how to please you, which I don’t know how to do.”

“Presumably, you could learn,” Snape growled, eyes narrowing.

“As long as you know what pleases you, and can tell me,” Harry nodded. Snape snorted.

“You think I don’t know what pleases me?”

Harry, tellingly, said nothing.

Snape slammed his knife down upon the tabletop.

“You piss me off,” he snarled. “Come here.”

Harry froze.

“I said, come here.”

“You’re going to hurt me,” Harry said, coldly.

“I am not,” Snape ground out.

“I want to know: why is there a no-sex clause in this ‘contract’?”

Snape rose, face twisted with anger.

“It is my prerogative to decide what I require from my pets,” he snapped. “Now COME. HERE.”

Harry rose, shakily. 

“But you like sex,” he ventured.

“And I’ll still get it,” Snape said, curtly.

“What, on weekends?” Harry’s face paled.

“Of course,” Snape replied with a slight shrug, eyes hard.

“You want to train me and fuck other people?” Harry exclaimed, sitting down again abruptly in obvious shock.

Snape remained standing. 

Harry put his head in his hands.

“I can’t agree to that,” Harry whispered, after a long pause. 

He raised his head.

“Isn’t the Master supposed to provide some sort of support, basic protection and care towards his… his slave?”

“You arrived here out of nowhere,” Snape said, concisely and coldly. “I am giving you my best offer. You can either see where it leads, or get out.”

“Please,” Harry whispered again, and his tone was bordering on desperation. “Please not that. I can’t agree. You ask for that and I… I will have to go.”

Snape bared his teeth as the reality of the boy’s words washed through him. Anger tensed his jaw; how dare the boy make any demands of him at all? 

But there was some other emotion as well that battered his heart, demanding to be recognised; something that felt like… fear. 

The boy would walk.

But to concede - to be shown to hand over power in this way… 

Unthinkable.

But he would lose out. The boy would go.

Snape’s lip curled.

“Beg me, then,” he ground out. Perhaps, if his agreement was seen to be hard-won, he might save face.

Harry looked up sharply, with a defiance and a pride that said he would not be made to beg for anything. Then he scrubbed his thin hands over his pale face and, back set, shoulders squared - as though walking to his death - he rose and approached Snape.

“Please,” the boy whispered.

“Please, what?”

“Please… sir?” Harry ventured.

Snape shook his head.

“Please, _Master_.”

“Please, Master.”

“No.”

Anger flared in the green eyes.

“What more should I do?” Harry said, crossly.

“You appear,” Snape said, with a derisive sniff, “to still be standing.”

Comprehension dawned, and the boy sank awkwardly to his knees.

“Palms and forehead touching the floor,” Snape scoffed. 

He took a bite of his now-cold toast.

Slowly, as though it pained him, the boy bent over on the wooden floor. Placing both palms flat, he curled his back over until the head of messy black hair was touching the floorboards.

“Please, _Master._ ”

“What on earth are you wearing?” Snape snorted, sipping his coffee.

Harry looked up, abruptly.

“What should I wear?”

Snape slammed his coffee cup down hard. Coffee sloshed across the table and Harry recoiled, shuffling back a touch. Hot liquid splashed across Snape’s knees, but he hardly noticed.

“You raise your head when you should keep your gaze lowered, you do not address me as _Master,_ and you speak _without my permission_!” he snarled.

For a moment, the boy stared at him, skinny chest butterflying. Then, slowly and deliberately, he lowered his face to the floor again, avoiding the small puddles of split coffee.

Snape made him wait there whilst he poured himself a fresh cup. His own heart was beating a little too fast for his liking. He took his seat again and sipped from his cup in silence.

“If I were to receive all my pleasure from you, there would be no point in you wearing very much,” he sniffed.

Harry said nothing.

“I’ll find you something. Leather. Or perhaps lace. If I keep you,” he added. “You may speak.”

There was a pause.

“Won’t I be cold?” Harry ventured. Snape put down his cup (more carefully this time.)

The silence was deadly.

“You have made three errors,” Snape said, voice low. “Can you tell me what they were? Speak.”

“I don’t know!” Harry groaned, his nose still pressed to the floorboards. “Master! Shite! I’m sorry!” he added, face whipping up in horror. “I didn’t mean to swear, I just… I don’t know if anything I do is right or wrong!”

“Head down,” Snape snarled.

The boy’s unhappy face returned to the floor.

Snape sighed.

“The correct response would have been, first, to thank me for allowing you to speak. Then, whatever you wished to say, finished by my proper title of ‘Master.’ The third mistake was in expressing your own concerns so crudely and in defiance of my wishes. I will decide what you are to wear. If you become cold through my choice, I will find other ways to keep you warm,” he added, pausing. Then a thought occurred to him. “You do not trust me to do this. Speak.”

“T-thank you, Ma-Master. I don’t know, Master. I’m… I’m a little out of my depth here. You have made no promises to keep me in any sort of comfort or happiness at all, Master. I’m sorry, Master, I… I think that’s all. Master,” Harry babbled.

Snape nodded, grimly. Aggravating as he was, the boy had a point. Something Albus had said to him, about being worthy of the responsibility; of the trust involved in such a relationship as this… Snape reflected, with sombre reality, that he was only beginning to understand what the old man had meant. In the short term, however, having the boy not trust him meant that he would be hesitant to follow direction. Which would detract from Snape’s own pleasure.

He was not used to having to think from the perspectives of others.

“List the three most potent worries that you have. Speak,” he said, gruffly.

“Thank you, Master. I… I worry that you’re going to… to hurt me and I… worry that you’ll leave me to live and sleep in discomfort and pain and h-hunger. I worry that you’ll sleep with other people. Master,” Harry finished, unhappily.

Snape sat back in his chair. 

He had done this. There was really nothing he could see that the young man had to look forward to, if he believed all he said.

“Rise and return to your room,” he spat out, bitterly. Harry looked up in horror. “And take your breakfast with you,” Snape added, rising to his feet.

“Why?” Harry asked, still puddled on the floor.

“Because I have something I need to address before we continue,” Snape said, curtly.

Harry got up. His knees were shaking.

“Have I failed already?”

Snape shook his head.

“Not you, no. I will collect you from your room. Make sure you take food, it may not be for an hour or so.”

 

-

 

****Marquis is online****

 

Marquis: Albus. _Good._ And don’t look so smug.

Albus: You cannot see my face, my boy.

Marquis: I know what expression you have. Your eyes are probably twinkling. I might make a small admission to your superior knowledge, if I may.

Albus: You may.

Marquis: The boy is terrified of me.

Albus: …

Marquis: Albus?

Albus:…

Albus: Have you hurt him?

Marquis: What? NO.

Albus: What have you done to him?

Marquis: I have been angry a couple of times - he said he was _afraid_ that I would hurt him, or starve him, or -

Albus: This conversation is over, Severus.

Marquis: You’re leaving? WTF?

Albus: I have no desire to speak any further with you whilst you continue to confirm all my worst fears about you. Good morning.

Marquis: No wait I’m fucking it up Albus please

Albus: The basic things all Slaves need: safety and security. Food, somewhere warm to sleep, a safe environment where they are respected and listened to. Where they know exactly what their limits are. Where they can trust their Master to punish only when necessary. Without safety and security, you do not have a Slave, you have a captive. If you cannot summon up the human decency to look after a boy who has placed his trust in your hands, we have nothing further to say today.

****Albus is offline****

Marquis: Fucking shit fuck fuck fuck

****Marquis is offline****

 

-

 

Harry looked around wildly at the gentle knock at his door, an hour later.

‘H-hello? Er, Master?” he called out, clutching his shirt against his bare chest. He had only faded maroon boxers on, and his skin was chilled.

Snape entered the room, grimly, and Harry’s heart constricted.

“Are you throwing me out?” he demanded.

Snape merely looked at him. Then he crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed.

“Drop that and come kneel here,” he said softly, parting his legs slightly.

Harry stared at Snape’s thighs in consternation.

“Oh for - just kneel close by me, not…” Snape ground his teeth. “I am not demanding anything sexual.” 

Cautiously, Harry dropped to his knees and crawled over.

“Should I put my head down?”

Snape shook his head. He was silent for many minutes before he spoke.

“You were correct, when you said your contract was missing elements pertaining to your own wellbeing. That was my… misunderstanding. You will read this, please,” and he drew from his jacket pocket a final page, which he handed down to Harry.

As Harry read, his eyes swam with gentle tears.

“Yes to everything,” he whispered finally, looking up, his heart in his mouth and his fingers trembling. “Yes to the warm rooms, if I’m nearly naked, and to you explaining exactly what I need to do, and to you feeding me, and to sleeping in your room, and being allowed to express my views, and understanding my punishments and… To your not sleeping with anyone else but me. Yes. _Please._ Th-thank you, Master.”


End file.
